Care and Feeding of a Chest Monster
by Selector
Summary: The war has dragged on and on. Harry has managed to learn a few things along the way. How to cure the monster in his chest first and foremost among them. Lucius Malfoy learned some things too. He wished it was about chest monsters.
1. Chapter 1

Care and Feeding of a Chest Monster

Or

Twelve things Wizards should, no, Must Know

Squatting by the edge of the wards totally still, eyes, even those of magical persons, passed over him. It wasn't that his gilly suit was that good, though it was. It was the preternatural stillness of the substrate the suit was on. Like a rock, or the ground. Nothing about him moved. He lifted the chassis with the elder wand in it, lay his finger on the slender wood and looked through the sight. This Vortex with its anti reflection device on the fifty four millimeter objective was spectacular. In the years since he had started this he had made some discoveries.

One. The Killing curse was line of sight out to five hundred meters where it lost power. Wands cast it exactly the same every time with no variation hence great repeatability, it really didn't take much power to cast a killing curse, not if you hated enough.

Two. Voldemort was an idiot as were his death eaters.

He had taken Azkaban first. Then he had defended it. Put it under the fidelius, well him and the girls, and improved it. Which led to another discovery, which wizards really should have made.

Three. Fire curse's ruined dementors day, week, month, year and eternity. It might not kill them but it drove them insane or something and they turned on each other. Burning dementors fighting not burning dementors apparently did kill them, both or all. On top of which it was funny as fuck.

Four. Taboo's had two edges. See item two. There were wide open fields all over the UK that had rises of ground overlooking flat terrain within five hundred meters. That was how he got the beam spread data. Measured even. Hermione was very particular about data and would make you prove it over and over.

Five. Witches took notions and there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it. Tonks had tried Remus, to help, save, something him and Hermione had done the same with Ron. Oh that shit was over now and they were back to being, well, better without those two idiots but seriously! The fucking whinging and ice cream consumption would drive you insane.

Six. He was not any better with witches than they were with wizards. Well then. Now he knew the monster in his chest was him being randy and a good fuck with the nearest willing vagina would cure it. Even angry revenge sex between semi melted liters of death by chocolate. The girls that lived in your suite decided which vagina was willing.

Seven. Chocolate cock rings. Girls were messy. He didn't leave a smidgen on them. They weren't even sticky when he was done. Well, not with sugar.

Eight. Hot water and plenty of it. Big bathtubs and lots of shit to go in the water was essential and build your own separate shower and WC. Oh and a sink and mirror per vagina. A WC for every vagina as well. Sharing is caring unless someone needs to pee.

Nine. Counter and cabinet space out the wazoo and an elf with access to money, a female elf who knows where the feminine hygiene products are sold. Fucking all of them.

Ten. Popping fucks in mask and pointed hats with a killing curse helped soothe the monster too. Take your mind right off your tackle that would.

Eleven. Witches, yeah, breaking up with wizards made them mean as fuck too. Talk about carrying a grudge! Don't come looking to share the ex's big fucking fortress in the north sea. Unless you liked melted roofing lead showers.

Harry exhaled and pulled the trigger when the three morons stopped to talk to each other like they always did. They dropped, beam spread was repeatable too. He had a table written down somewhere for posterity. He didn't need it in the field, he had it memorized, and here came the rest of them running to the corpses. Like they always did. Two more curses and five more dropped.

Harry stood up, folded up the bipod and apparated to the gates and then into the camp. He went through dropping portkey threads on muggle born and half-bloods and sticking killing curses in death eaters and ministry employees. Same things really.

Harry rounded the corner from the building he had just emptied and ran into Pansy Parkinson knocking her down. He grinned, stunned her and dropped a thread on her. That would keep Hermione busy a while. Let her take some of that grudge out on someone besides him too.

Twelve. Things for witches to do are essential. For pregnant witches even more essential, a requirement if you wanted to live. Compliment their work often.

He cleared the other buildings and cast the spoils spell before aperrating away. Dobby would tell him about any real property he needed to put under the fidelius later, after he got all their shit from the bank and wherever else. And of course brought any elves to him to be sworn to the family.


	2. Chapter 2

Ten Lessons from Lord Malfoy

No One will Ever Learn

Sadly

Silence, silence so loud you could hear the flame shifting across the top of the glass of fire whiskey. Such silence, the hissing of the gas in the lamps, and the flame front holding just above the mantle as they gave their chemical white light. It's amazing how much noise there is in the modern world, none of that noise, not even the slightest trembling decibel, disturbed the howling silence. Lucius Malfoy sat in the silence. He had learned a lesson today. Several in fact. Not just today either. It all started the morning of the second of September 1991, with the letter from the Heir of Malfoy. His son Draco.

Really before that but the lesson never sunk in until then. Lesson one, making children as nature intended was the best way to go. The daughters he had obliviated Narcissa of, and had adopted out were powerful, beautiful 'muggleborn' witches. Lucius knew, he had had them watched and protected by the most proficient hit witches who could be bought, and now they were killing machines, in Potters camp, his bed even. Watching them work on a few snatcher teams, in the memories they sent him, made him as hard as an iron bar. What they did with Potter, with his paramours smiling in the background, made him change his trousers. The male he had got, on one of his French cousins, and implanted the memory of bearing into Narcissa, was weak, and well, mentally deficient.

Lesson two. Half-bloods were exceedingly dangerous. Those raised in the muggle world even more so. Look no further than the Dark Lord, or Potter, for that. Dumbledore as well, but he was raised in the magical world, and in a different age, and had succumbed to dementia or grief over imprisoning his lover, or something. The Dark Lord had had his leg off for losing the diary before Lucius could think of an excuse. Potter, even while fighting the bindings Dumbledore had put on him, and still before his second maturity, nearly killed six inner circle members. With those bindings off, second maturity now obviously on the young wizard, well, no death eater survived meeting him.

Lesson three. Muggleborns were not to be trifled with. In addition to halfbloods, Potters rag tag army of murderers was nearly two thirds muggleborn, and with the least financial backing, from Potter of course, and a modicum of skills in research, from his mud, erh, muggleborn paramour Granger, they had mastered magics arcane and had the financial wherewithal to withstand any attack, the power to ward it off, and the resources, from the muggle world, to push the wizarding world to the very brink of extinction. Nymphadora Tonks, halfblood, was trained by a Black and was Potters second in the field. Apparently a place earned by skinning her pureblood aunt alive in the middle of Diagon alley, as Potter killed anyone who approached.

Lesson four. If you go after a pureblood family, kill the daughters. Bones, and the Greengrass witches, were very nearly as bad as the Tonks halfblood. Let's not even talk about Andromeda Black Tonks or the now Narcissa Black. They knew where the bodies were buried, and how to dig them up and turn them into inferni, figuratively, and send them shambling off to the ICW. Lucius cut his eyes to the notice of his trial for 'war crimes' from the ICW. His barristers hadn't even known there were such crimes in the magical world.

Lesson five. Do not let your obliviated wife get taken by her sister and the obliviations erased. He looked at the silver hand holding his whiskey glass, and thought of the mithril ball in his scrotum. His mind skittered over those events, not wishing to delve deeply, or at all, into that pain and horror.

Lesson six. Do not send boys to do men's work, even if it is at the most secure location you have. Lucius looked in the eyes of his only son and Heir, in the same son's decapitated head that crazed former Malfoy elf, Dobby had stuck to his desk facing him. The son that had 'Staleblood' carved across his formerly handsome brow, and fingers, apparently the same sons, braided into its gorgeous flowing Malfoy blond hair. Lucius wondered idly where the Heirs ring was. The scrotum hanging from his mouth was a bit over the top. Granger had done this. The boy's aunt had after all carved 'mudblood' on her with a cursed knife.

Which led to lesson seven. When you have your halfblood, insanely powerful, enemy and his paramour, no matter he is letting her play with an idiot blood traitor, in your dungeons, do not torture her. Kill her, and then him, as quickly as you can cast the curse. Then, if you must, torture the blood traitor toy she was playing with. Otherwise, from all evidence, the halfblood will lose his mind, something ugly and powerful will take him over, and you have to run for your life, and move to your second home. In fact, don't bring him to your primary seat at all, ever. Even if the Dark Lord is in fact in residence. Especially not then, as the Dark Lord will cheerfully destroy what the other halfblood does not in their brawl. Lucius shuddered. Being set upon by flaming peacocks had shown him the limit of his courage that day.

Lesson eight. Do not let the Dark Lord brand you with a mark he can use to call you to him, by making it hurt so bad you find your courage again, at least enough to hope the Dark Lord killed you so you would have relief.

Lesson nine. Do not abuse house elves. They are powerful, patient, and have memories like phoenix. I would write this down but every bone in my one hand is broken, my tongue has been ironed, and my ears, well I don't know where they are. Thankfully I can feel the poison that was poured down my throat working.

Lesson ten. When you lose an elf change your war- The whiskey glass dropped from the relaxing silver hand and spilled the burning liquid across the very flammable very expensive Persian mudblood hair rug.


End file.
